The 76th Annual Hunger Games!
by HlysComment
Summary: SPOILERS for Catching Fire/Mockingjay. *** What happened in the final hunger games to take place in the Capitol?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

This is an imagining of what happened at the 76th and final hunger games that were mentioned near the end of Mockingjay. If you haven't read that, you probably shouldn't read this. Also, since this is about the capitol tributes there will be little to do with the actual characters in the book though many such as Johanna, Enobaria, Peeta and even (eventually) Katniss will make appearances. I'm focusing on a relative of Snow's because of someone in the victor's vote mentioning that they thought Snow had a granddaughter. In my imagining, he had two. I'm starting with a chapter to introduce her and give her a place in the universe of Panem and some background before flashing forward to the capitol reaping. Just to make clear, this is a sort of epilogue story and will have metric tons of OCs. It's just when they vote for the final hunger games, that wrecked me. I couldn't believe Katniss did that and I guess because of that my imagination wouldn't let go of it. How did they do the reaping? Would they really leave it up to chance or make sure that Snow's granddaughter was included? How did they decide how many tributes there would be? And so on and so forth. So, this is my version. I hope someone out there likes it.

**Disclaimer: I don't have any rights to any non-original characters. I hope the fact that I'm just doing this for fun and not profiting from it in any other way than artistically still actually counts for something in our society and no one will try to sue me for sharing my writing with others. **

* * *

I hadn't always hated the games. I, like everyone I knew, had been raised to think of them as exciting; the best holiday of the year. I vaguely remember the normal week off of school being extended because of a particularly long hunger games when I was in second forum. The games were just part of life and even though somewhere you knew these were real kids, it just didn't sink in somehow. It was a TV show.

When I was 12, the girls in my forum thought it would be fun to have our own reaping. We randomly pulled a number to see which district we would be, District 7. Of course, everyone had wanted it to be one of the first four districts but Bliss had convinced us it would be more fun if we left it all to chance.

On reaping day we all showed up in District 7 costumes and put our names in a big salad bowl Flourish brought from home. We said no volunteering because it had to feel like a real outlying district. A funny thing happened, though. In the Capitol you were taught that being selected to be a tribute was an honor. They put a lot of emphasis on the people in the inner districts falling all over each other to volunteer. The tributes themselves would talk about how honored they were to represent their districts and how much they were looking forward to the games. And when Dahlia read my name I felt this flush of elation, I knew it wasn't real but I thought, "I'm the tribute!"

Everyone seemed to be congratulating me at once but then Dahlia started yelling. "No! No! The Peacekeepers have to take her now you idiots!" And the boys from form 8, who someone had convinced to be our Peacekeepers pushed through and one of them grabbed my arm. I think it was then it started to hit, the reality I had always been so protected against. They surrounded me and escorted me up to the front steps of the school. I stopped smiling and my stomach fluttered a bit. Suddenly, this wasn't as fun.

Dahlia asked me a few questions before presenting me as tribute to a round of applause and then we pretended to go through the doors which were, of course, locked because school was out for the real reaping which was going to happen in just a few hours.

Everyone seemed to think it was great fun except Scarlet and some of her crew. I heard her saying very loudly to Dahlia as my best friend Poise and I left, "Yeah, and I'm sure the fact she's President Snow's _granddaughter_ had nothing to do with her name getting pulled."

I started to turn but Poise tugged at my arm and hissed, "Don't give her the satisfaction, Ocean Grace. Just ignore her. Everyone knows it was a real reaping."

Of course, our reaping was way off. We only knew the reality presented to us on the big screens, where the outlying districts were neglected for the flashier inner districts. We didn't know anything about the tesserae, for example. And while cameras were always trained on the proud cheering parents of districts one and two, no one showed us the screaming, crying and sometimes fainting parents of the outlying districts.

So, I shook off the claustrophobic feeling I'd had during our little reaping and Scarlet's remarks and was giggling with excitement again when Poise and I got back to my place. My palace, I should say. Our home was ridiculously large and surrounded; by gates, by guards and by the garden. My grandfather was known for his stinking (and I mean that literally) roses and his obsession extended to our front yard.

My mother smiled at our costumes and asked how the reaping had gone. A strange shadow passed over her face when I announced proudly that I had been selected as tribute.

"Well," she said quietly, "enough games. Change out of those costumes, please."

"But, Mom." I wailed. "We wanted to wear them during the reaping. Besides, Poise didn't bring anything to change into."

"Poise has left so many of her clothes here over the years I'm sure she has an entire wardrobe." My mother sighed. "Even so, you're the same size and she can borrow something of yours."

"Mo-om," I tried again but she interrupted.

"Ocean Grace Brin!" She said sternly, her voice uncharacteristically loud. "Take those costumes off immediately. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." I said quietly. My mother never shouted.

A few hours later Poise and I were curled up on the sofa, my mother's strange reaction driven from our minds. We had consoled ourselves by dressing in my very fanciest clothes and since I had to occasionally attend state functions with my mother; my fancy clothes were the absolute height of fashion.

Amber Dawn, my six year old sister, had gotten in on the fun and seemed to beside herself at being included in our little fashion show. Then my mother came in with the refreshments and nearly threw another fit.

"No, absolutely not." She said immediately. "Amber Dawn, you know you're too young for the games. Go back up to your floor."

"Noooo!" Amber Dawn wailed. "I wanna see."

"Mom, seriously. Everyone in her class gets to watch the games with their families. You did the same thing to me when I was little and it made me a freak. All anyone does the first few days back in school is talk about the games and there I was, not even properly knowing the tributes names. Kids in my class had their parents actually take them to the parade of tributes and had seen the tributes with their own eyes and there I was, the _President's Granddaughter_, and I hadn't even seen the games at all."

This was a bit of a sore spot for me. I'd been teased for years because of my mother's crazy refusal to let me watch the games. She had originally said I couldn't watch until I was 18. 18! But when I was ten I had been taken to one of those state events and had complained, loudly, to my Grandfather. I immediately regretted it.

* * *

Grandfather Snow was Grandfather Snow. He wasn't Granddad or Grandpa or, heaven forbid, Pawpaw…or any of the other pet names my friends called their Grandfathers. He only hugged us or showed any affection or notice to us in public or when a camera was nearby. Honestly, there were about a thousand reasons for me to find him creepy but the number one reason was the one I had been banking on that night, my mother was afraid of him.

The look he gave her when I announced to the room how unfair it was for her to not let me watch the games chilled my ten year old bones and had me wishing for a time machine.

"My dear, what's this?" He said in his soft, sing-song way.

"Um," My mother dropped her eyes and blushed. "I-It's just so, so violent and..and Ocean Grace is such a sensitive child. I don't want her having nightmares. That's all." By the time she finished the sentence I could barely hear her voice and you could have heard a pin drop in that ballroom at that moment. All eyes were on the President and his daughter.

"But I do want her to have nightmares, my dear." Grandfather said, his voice growing louder and his focus shifting to the rest of the room. "After all, is not that the purpose of the games? To remind us all of the nightmare of revolution and war? The lives lost in the arena are not lost in vain and merely for sport. They are there to remind our children," and he put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me painfully tightly, "who did not witness the misery heaped upon us by the treachery of the districts, of the reality of that death. We can never forget. The districts can never forget. Our children must be taught not in books but in blood…"

My Grandfather let go my shoulders and walked the half dozen steps to my mother who had her eyes turned down. He slid his fingers under her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"…blood and nightmares, my dear. For the blood of a few district tributes and the nightmares of a few children buys us peace. Is not the peace and prosperity of a million worth that much?"

My mother's eyes were wet but she smiled and nodded. "Of course, Father. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so overprotective."

Grandfather smiled, but I could still see darkness in his eyes.

"Well," he said, turning back to the room. "You come by it honestly, my dear. I am also very protective. I am protective of this great country I love so much. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to protect what we love."

Mother raised her hand to her face and seemed to giggle, nodding, and I wondered if I was the only person who saw the tear that hand to her face was covering.

We left shortly after. The incident had soured my stomach and mother had gratefully jumped on the excuse to get away. My Grandfather also seemed pleased and to play up how delicate I was and how understandable that my mother would be so ridiculous as to prevent me from watching the games.

The ride home started out unusually quiet. My mother and I had argued before, of course, but this was different. My mother was frightened, truly frightened, and that terrified me. Worse, I knew that I was the cause. My mother was sad and afraid and it was my fault.

"I'm..I'm sorry, Mama." I said at last. "I didn't..I don't know what happened. I just.."

"Shhh, Sweetheart." She said and instantly wrapped me up in her arms. "It wasn't your fault. It's nothing to do with you. Don't worry. Don't worry. Nothing's wrong. Everything is alright. We're fine. We're fine."

Even at age ten I could tell that she wasn't necessarily just talking to me.

* * *

All of this flashed through my mind as I met my mother's eyes and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Um," I said lamely. "Sorry, Mama. You're right. Mom's right, Amber Dawn. I'll fill you in later, okay."

"What?" Amber Dawn wailed, furious at my betrayal. "Ocean!"

"You'll know enough that no one will tease you, I promise." I turned and met my mother's eyes. "But Mom's right. You're too young for this."

Amber Dawn had protested and whined and howled a bit longer but finally gone up to the third floor which was entirely devoted as a play area for us. My mother had renovated it into a child's wonderland shortly after my father died. At the same time, my Grandfather had insisted on building the large gated wall around our house and permanently assigning capitol guards to patrol the perimeter.

It was odd, the way my mother would stand at the window and watch that wall going up. Almost like she was being caged in, rather than protected.

The pre-reaping show started with all the endless interviews and fashion talk. Who was this or that important person wearing at the ultra-exclusive viewing party at the palace? Blah, blah, blah.

Finally, the reaping started. District 12 went first, as usual. That district was so boring. In 70 years, they'd only had one victor. One. And he was a fluke. Everybody knew that drunken embarrassment for a victor had been a fluke.

I didn't pay much attention to any of the outlying districts until they got to district 7. When the chaperone pulled the girls' name I was on the edge of my seat.

"Courtney Aberdeen!" The chaperone called loudly and the camera panned through the almost uniformed mass of the girl's crowd, finally stopping on a pale but determined looking face. She was young. She looked like she might be our age. She had red hair, freckles, green eyes. Actually, it was kinda creepy. She looked a lot like me.

"Doesn't look like much." Poise said, apparently…well, hopefully… not seeing the resemblance that I did. "At least she's not crying."

The tribute was being hugged hard by some crying girls standing around her. As she passed through the crowd toward the peacekeepers almost everyone reached out to touch her, probably envious. I wondered if Courtney had her own version of Scarlet standing somewhere in the crowd complaining that it was somehow unfair. Then I remembered it was an outlying district.

"Why do the outlying districts always look so…I don't know. They just don't look very excited." I complained.

"Well, the outlying districts almost never win." Poise said. "They probably know they're gonna die."

"But everyone has the same chances." I insisted. "She's just as likely to win as any of the others. Maybe if they spent more time training and less time sulking and crying like they do, they'd win more often. Maybe if their older, stronger eligibles volunteered like in the higher districts, they'd have more victors. If they had more victors they'd have more festivals and they wouldn't be so poor. But, no. They're too busy feeling sorry for themselves to put in the time and effort to win for their districts." I huffed.

"Where did you hear that?" My mother said in a strange tone of voice.

"What?" I was defensive. "It's what everyone says. Everyone knows the odds are even going in. The reason the higher districts win all the time is because they try harder."

"Really." Mother's voice was very low. "I hadn't heard that."

"Well, you never leave the house unless it's to one of Grandfather's events." I complained. "Maybe if you bothered to go out and talk to people, you'd know these things."

There was a tense silence as the program switched over to the reaping in district 6. Then suddenly my mother did the most unexpected thing. She laughed.

"Yes," She said finally. "Yes, maybe I should go out, eh? What do you say to that? Maybe getting out of the house more is exactly what I need. Ever think of that?"

She was looking at a vase in the corner, almost like she was talking to it and not to me.

"As it stands, I guess I don't really get the full flavor of the games like you do, my dear."

My blood chilled a bit when she called me that. She sounded so much like Grandfather.

"I'll leave you two bloodthirsty children to your sport." She said as she got up from her chair. She walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured a conspicuously large glass and gulped it down then immediately refilled it.

"Happy Hunger Games!" She called with her glass held high over her head as she left the room.

Poise and I sat quietly for a while after her dramatic exit.

"No offense, Ocean." She said finally. "But your Mom is kinda reminding me of old Haymitch. She's, well, she's kinda weird."

"Yeah," I said softly. "She's been that way for…well, ever since my Dad died."

"Ocean?" Poise seemed to hesitate.

"What?"

"Is it true what they say about your Dad?"

I tensed.

"I mean, do you think he was poisoned?"

"I don't know." I said at last. "I don't like talking about it."

And Poise let it drop. We tried for levity and excitement after that but it was clearly forced on both our parts. Finally, we decided to artificially induce it by stealing from the liquor cabinet mother had left open and unlocked. It worked for Poise.

I remember that night so clearly. Not just because it was the first time I felt any kind of connection to the games via the fake reaping and my doppelganger in the seventh district. But also because of my Mom talking to that vase and Poise's question. It was like Poise knew what I only half guessed at the time, that the walls around our house might not be keeping people out but keeping my mother in.

* * *

The 70th Annual Hunger games weren't that remarkable or memorable for many people. But they were for me. That year I actually felt like I got to know one of the tributes.

Courtney Aberdeen was 12 years old. She was born two months and 6 days before I was. Like me, she had lost her father. Like me she had a younger sister but also two older brothers. It was through my obsession of finding everything out about Courtney I could I learned about the tesserae. I had always believed the reaping was absolutely fair, an even chance for all involved but the tesserae belied that. If you were poor, you were more likely to be chosen. That wasn't fair.

Once I realized how unfair the reaping could be, I began to look closer and harder at everything about the games. I realized how much influence the sponsors had on the games and I made a decision. I was going to sponsor Courtney Aberdeen.

Of course, I didn't have anywhere near enough money, even though I had saved up quite a lot. I still needed help.

I gathered together my friends from school and presented my idea to them. Since we had chosen the 7th district we needed to sponsor the girl from the 7th district. It would be a fun project.

Most of the girls agreed that it would be exciting to somehow be involved in the games and we got to work fundraising. No one in the capitol is exactly poor but there are definite differences between neighborhoods, ours was the most prestigious and the wealthiest. Our fundraising consisted of us going home and asking our parents for money. Fortunately, almost all the parents thought our plan to influence the games was adorable and gave generously.

Soon, we had enough to send an early in the game parachute with low level supplies; A small meal or weapon, matches, water, maybe even a thermal sleeping bag. Traditionally, you were supposed to give your money to the district mentor who would add it to the pool and decide who got what and when and most of the girls wanted to do that but I hesitated.

What if the mentor decided the boy from district 7 was the better bet and used all our money on him. No, it was better to give a private gift.

I paid close attention in Courtney's interview. I found myself referring to her as Courtney instead of the tribute from district 7 or district 7. Poise and I took careful notes on everything we could learn about her strengths and weaknesses.

The big day came. I had never been so anxious at the beginning of the games. I sat with a strange fluttery feeling in the back of my throat as the tributes emerged from the ground onto their platforms. The arena wasn't a mountain or a forest or any of the more standard, traditional set ups. I'd never seen anything like it. It was like a, almost like some of the footage of district 13, actually. It was a ruined city full of half destroyed buildings. The Cornucopia was in the middle of what looked like had been a large city square.

There was the overview shot in the middle and the two peripheral shots were flashing through the tributes from each district, the boy on one side and the girl on the other as a disembodied voice counted down.

Courtney was only on screen for a few seconds but she looked determined, strong. She was also looking rather fixedly at the Cornucopia, which was bad. Everyone knew the first day of the games was the bloodbath, when most of the tributes ran for the supplies and were cut down by the bigger, faster tributes.

"Don't do it, Courtney." I found myself mumbling. "Don't do it."

The countdown ended and as I'd feared Courtney ran straight toward the gaudy golden horn. But then she stopped just long enough to grab one of the bags along the periphery. She glanced around again and then ran toward one of the roads leading out of the square, her route cleverly taking her past another smaller backpack near the edge that a more eager tribute has passed up in favor of something better.

The focus of the coverage was on the hand to hand combat taking place but though the overview shot had moved to the smaller, right hand section of the screen I saw Courtney make her escape into the deserted and destroyed city. I would have to wait until later to find out where she had gone and how she was doing but for now, she was safe.

We learned that Courtney was very good at climbing, which made sense for a lumber district girl. She wasn't very good at making fires though and it was apparently very cold in the city at night. So, the first parachute we sent contained matches. Near the end of the second day the gamemakers sent a cyclone through the city and though Courtney survived by seeking shelter in an inner and windowless room she didn't manage it unscathed. We sent a second parachute containing a medical kit that would take care of her wounds. And that was it. All our substantial money raised was gone in two small gifts.

I had to do more.

* * *

I started a campaign. While most of my friends had lost interest in supporting district 7 out of loyalty to our random drawing, some were now almost as genuinely invested in her survival as I was.

We went door to door asking for donations. Poise had the idea of offering to let people take pictures with me, the granddaughter of everyone's beloved president if they donated to our cause.

It worked. It also got some attention.

The female mentor from the seventh district contacted me. She first asked why we only sent private gifts and I explained. She said she respected my reasons but asked me to consult with her to make sure our gifts had the greatest effect. I was glad that I listened.

When the gamemakers shut off all the water in the city, I called her. She suggested in addition to sending a full canteen we could also, if we could afford it, send a precipitation sheet. Something designed to concentrate and catch morning dew and something, she assured me, Courtney would recognize and know how to use.

We only just managed both gifts before going completely broke. I was amazed how much more expensive everything got the longer the game dragged on.

There were only six tributes left, all from different districts and all alliances had ended. The higher district alliance had ended a bit earlier than usual when Axle, the boy from 2, had turned on his allies. He had found a sleeping drug in one of the packs they'd discovered, kept it to himself and slipped it into his companions meals the evening the water was cut off. Then, when they were all unconscious and completely helpless, he'd gone around the campfire and methodically slit each of their throats. He caught their blood in the empty canteens.

It was gruesome and everyone complained but not for the reasons you'd think. What a waste, they'd said. To use up all the really good fighters with such unexciting deaths.

That was one of the first times I really started to hate the games. I wasn't thinking of Courtney as a tribute anymore, you see. I was thinking of her as a person. And if she was a person, so were all these other kids. The more I thought about it, the more horrified I was.

I thought maybe I could go out fundraising again. Poise and I were planning another visit to the celebrations in the square, another round of picture taking, when my Grandfather appeared.

* * *

Grandfather never, ever came to visit us. We didn't do picnics or Sunday brunch. The only time I saw him was at official parties and functions. His personal guards entered and secured the house, which included securing my family in the great room.

When he finally appeared in that room he walked purposefully to my mother and struck her hard and full across the face. Amber Dawn screamed and cowered against me, immediately bursting into tears.

"What is this?" He shouted. I had never heard him raise his voice. "How much do you have to lose before you learn, my dear? What do you hope to achieve by encouraging this behavior? It is all over the capitol! President Snow's granddaughter taking pictures with strangers in the street, for what? For what? To raise money for a tribute!" He grabbed my mother by her right arm and raised his hand as though he meant to hit her again.

I forgot myself.

"Leave her alone!" I screamed. I rushed forward and pushed him away, placing myself between him and my mother.

"You." He growled and suddenly he was holding me by the throat so tight I couldn't breathe.

"Father!" I heard my mother screaming. "Please, she's just a child. Please let her go. I'll control her. Please!"

"She's just like him." Grandfather spit. "She'll never learn."

"She will. Please! Let her go!"

My face was hot and the blood was pounding so loudly. Black spots were filling my eyes and my fingers slipped away from his hands, no longer willing to help me live.

"Father, she'll stop. I'll keep her here. If she's not going to school she'll be here. Please, don't take her too. Please!"

The spots got bigger and bigger as my mother's voice faded away and then I was falling but I don't remember landing.

* * *

I woke up in my bed. Someone had put a cold collar around my neck and I could feel some sort of bandage on my head. I reached up to touch it but pulled away wincing at the stabbing pain my gentle probing caused.

"You hit your head." My mother's voice was coming from the left of my bed. I turned slowly toward the sound but still winced from the dizziness and pain. "When he let you go, you just collapsed and hit your head on that horrid foot table."

I tried to say I was sorry but all that came out was a croak.

"Don't try talking yet. Your larynx is damaged." She paused. "I made a deal with him. From now on, you and Amber Dawn will be privately tutored here in the house. Your friends are no longer allowed to visit and you are not to visit them."

Tears filled my eyes but she wouldn't look at me.

"In fact," She continued her voice breaking. "you and Amber Dawn are not to leave the grounds unless your Grandfather specifically authorizes or request it."

She finally looked at me. "Do you understand?"

I nodded as best I could. I understood. I understood a lot more than I wanted to. Poise was right. My father had been killed. I was right. My mother had been a prisoner.

Now I had not only condemned myself to her fate but my sister as well.

"I should let you get back to sleep. You need it." She stood slowly and I noticed the limp she tried to cover. So, Grandfather hadn't been satisfied with hurting me.

She paused at the door. "I should probably wait to tell you this but I think it might be better to get it over with. The tribute you were sponsoring, the girl from district 7, she died last night."

I knew it would hurt but I had to ask. I concentrated hard on making the word understandable.

"How?" I asked.

My mother met my eyes. "She was struck by lightning." She said and then left.

My eyes filled and dripped down the sides of my face. Because shifting my head hurt so much I couldn't seem to stop them from dripping into my ears.

Lightning.

It was my fault. I might as well have slit her throat myself. I hadn't known. How could I have known that paying special attention to a tribute would anger my Grandfather so much? I had thought the games were fair. I had believed his lies. But I had focused too closely and because I was the President's granddaughter my focus threatened to draw others' focus. I had to be silenced and so did Courtney.

"I'm sorry, Courtney." I whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

**Author's P.S.: **So, what do you think? Keep going?


	2. Chapter 2

The next few years were dreadful as I came to understand exactly what my mother's life had been. I came to understand that my father had caused my grandfather some embarrassment and had paid for his indiscretion with his life and my mother's freedom.

My indiscretion had not cost me my life but it had cost me my freedom and, worse, the freedom of my sister. Poor Amber Dawn was crushed when she learned she wasn't to return to school. Mother did what she could and life was bearable more or less. I could even fool myself into forgetting about the walls from time to time though we weren't always kept locked behind them. We were dragged out of the house when it suited Grandfather; for photo ops, parties and the like. We were always very happy and very loving on camera.

I did what I could to help Amber Dawn adjust, to make up for the solitude. My life changed so much in just a few years. By the time I was fourteen I felt very old.

Then came the 74th Games. Grandfather seemed to take great pleasure in requiring us to watch the Games, ALL of the Games; every brutal minute of them. But I think we had the last laugh in the 74th Games. I felt my heart swell when the girl on fire volunteered. I saw her little sister. I saw her strength. I hoped so much that she would live but my mind went back to poor Courtney and I tried to hold back my feelings. I tried so hard but the way she flew out into the parade with the other tribute, flames licking all around them and yet not touching them.

Then the boy, Peeta, told of his affection. And the way he fought for her. The way he seemed to work so hard to keep her alive. Poor little Amber Dawn cried herself sick when the little girl from district eleven died and I couldn't harldly breathe when Katniss arranged the flowers. It was such a statement. There was no hope that Grandfather would let her survive.

The announcement, though, broke down all the barriers in my heart. I hoped. I hoped with all my soul that they would live. The days they spent in the cave, talking and keeping each other's spirits up. The jabs at Haymitch. Katniss's incredible bravery going after the medicine. Then the terrible fight with Clove, the girl from district 2. I couldn't look. Out of nowhere the boy from district eleven came in and saved her, an opponent from another district spared her. Why? Because she helped a little girl he cared for.

The days and hours ticked by and the focus of all the coverage centered on district twelve. Not that the tribute from district 5 wasn't impressive. But how can you root for more than one person? And yet, every year I seemed to be rooting for almost everyone and watching them die, one by one.

I cried when district 5 ate the berries and I cried almost as hard when Katniss found Peeta shortly after. Her relieved anger almost made me laugh but I couldn't through the tears.

The grand finale was one of the most horrible I'd ever seen. I couldn't believe it but I felt sorry for the heartless tribute from district one in the end. Still, the relief when the tributes from district 12 survived. I couldn't believe it. They were through. The impossible had happened.

Mother and I woke Amber Dawn with our screams of glee and jostled hugging. Then the voice. The second announcement. No new rule. No exception. No reprieve.

One of them would have to die.

Then the berries. I didn't want them to die but I couldn't believe their bravery. I couldn't help but feel it was a great thing to show the Capitol and my thrice blasted Grandfather just what they thought of the Games. But… I didn't want them to die.

"Stop!" The panicked voice but still, poor Peeta. And Katniss, screaming and throwing herself against the barrier.

Finally, it was all over and they were safe and sound. I loved that required watching. Seeing them so in love at the interview.

Usually Grandfather made us watch the tours and other events related to the Games but that year we were prohibited which was another indication to me that things in that Games had gone horribly, horribly wrong for him. We didn't get anything remotely like news in our gilded cage of a mansion but I tried to eavesdrop on the conversations of the guards, ask what I hoped sounded like innocent questions and read between the lines what I could.

Grandfather still sent for us at official functions and so that is how it came to be that we were invited to the engagement celebration he threw for Katniss and Peeta. For once, I was genuinely excited to attend one of Grandfather's parties. I picked a more simple dress and understated makeup. I wanted to look more like Katniss. I wanted desperately to meet her and, well, I wanted her to like me.

When I arrived at the palace with my mother (Amber Dawn wasn't allowed to go) I rotated before the camera as usual but this time the phone rang. Grandfather or whoever watched me on the other end of the camera feed didn't like my attire. I was whisked into another room and given a new outfit to wear. It was horrible. I mean, it wasn't, but it was. The height of Capitol fashion, it was covered in jewels and frills. My make up was also removed and reapplied in a more liberal and dramatic fashion. Worst of all, though, was the perfume. They said Grandfather personally requested it.

When I walked into the ballroom I positively stank of roses.

I never met Katniss. Anytime I approached her, I could actually see her nose crinkle and she would instinctively move away from the smell, and Peeta would move with her. I tried to eat some of the wonderful dishes served, after the complete lock down Grandfather got rid of our staff, another way of punishing us. I had struggled very hard initially but now had a pretty decent grasp on cooking. Still, I couldn't imagine creating such wonderful dishes and began plotting possible ways to sneak some of the feast back to Amber Dawn.

As I was examining one of the many little cakes on display and wondering if it would still taste as well after a trip in my handbag, a shadow fell across the table.

"They look amazing, don't they?" A familiar voice asked pleasantly.

I couldn't believe it. Peeta Mellark was standing right there. Right next to me. I felt flustered and wondered what to say.

"Um," I choked out, my voice cracking and then I coughed loudly and indelicately all over the table of pastries.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "Do you need some water or something?"

I shook my head no. My throat seemed to have seized up and I couldn't speak.

"Are you quite well, my dear?" My Grandfather purred from behind me and I jumped, my eyes wide. That was another problem with this wretched perfume, I couldn't smell Grandfather coming.

I shook my head, suddenly terrified. He seemed angry under his customary benign smile. I hadn't yet forgotten the night he had almost strangled me to death or the beating he'd given my mother. I tread very lightly where Grandfather was concerned.

"No." I managed to say. "Nothing, Grandfather."

"Yes, well, you shouldn't manipulate our guest of honor's time. There are many guests who wish to speak to our young Mr. Mellark." He reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder but close enough to my naked neck that I shuddered.

"Yes, Grandfather." I said, my eyes on the floor. But I dared to look up and meet Peeta's again, he was frowning at us. "I'm so very glad to have met you. Congratulations. Please tell Ms. Everdeen for me."

Grandfather squeezed me painfully and I pulled away, trying not to wince.

I never got the chance to speak to Katniss and Grandfather stopped food deliveries for a week. It's odd. Near the end of that week I had run out of almost everything. I took some flour and water, fried it and served it to my mother and sister with honey. I remember it tasting so good but I made it later and it was like eating sweet glue. It's nothing to do with my story but it just popped into my head. I've always thought how odd that was. How hunger can make something that isn't even good taste like the best thing you've ever had.

Back to the story.

Things went bad with the Quarter Quell.

Grandfather, once again, insisted that we watch the Games starting with the announcement that the tributes would be drawn from the victors. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The quell was as awful as I'd thought. I should've died from dehydration I think considering how much crying I did. I knew there was no way Grandfather would let Katniss and Peeta survive. Watching them was worse than any Games before. So many terrible things happened to them but I think the worst was the birds. The screams and the way Katniss just seemed to fold in on herself. I tried to cut off the sound but I assume Grandfather had anticipated that because I couldn't.

Then everything exploded, in the Games and everywhere else.

The rebellion was fully launched and even the Capitol wasn't safe. The rebels hacked transmissions and I could see. I wanted so badly for them to win. I never imagined I would regret it.

But I did.

The guards abandoned our home, ironically, as soon as it was threatened. If I had retained any doubts about their purpose their flight from our doors when danger loomed would have put a period on them.

I was ecstatic but mother was concerned.

"But it's over!" I insisted. "The rebels are here. Grandfather is going down in flames. We're free!"

"We are still the family of the most hated man in Panem." Mother hissed as she packed food tins into a canvas bag.

"But he hates us and we hate him. They can't blame us for what he did."

"People don't think rationally at times like these, Ocean Grace." She sighed. "They're angry. Father has done terrible things to them as long as they can remember. They won't stop and think. They won't ask your opinion on his politics. They won't even see you. All they'll see is him. I didn't let him kill my children and damn well won't let you die because of him."

I stopped arguing.

We ran. It was chaos in the streets. People didn't know where to go or what to do. You'd hear screams and people would start running and you just ran with them. Most of the time I didn't even know what we were running from.

On the third day Mother was struck by a stray bullet. It wasn't even meant for her. Amber Dawn was screaming and trying to run back out into the street but I stopped her. I made her stay with me under cover until the shooting stopped. As I watched, a man running for his life tripped over her body bleeding in the street.

The waiting was horrible. I could see she was still alive but I knew that if I ran out to get her Amber Dawn would come with me. I had to sit and wait for what seemed like forever but finally, the shooting stopped. The rebels had won the skirmish and were securing the area.

Amber Dawn and I ran to mother. I held my breath as I looked for some sign that she was still alive. She opened her eyes and tried to smile at me.

"Oh, thank goodness." I sobbed. I didn't know what to do. "Someone help, please!" I screamed at the soldiers. "Please help us!"

Mother took my hand and tried to say something.

"I can't hear you. I don't understand." I cried.

She took my hand and fumbled with Amber Dawn's.

I nodded. "I'll look after her. Don't worry. We'll all be okay."

And, just like that, she was dead. She didn't even close her eyes but I knew. I knew the second it happened because, she just wasn't there anymore. People are different when they're dead. They're so terribly still.

I knew it instantly but I couldn't accept it.

"No!" I cried. "Please don't. Come back! Please! Mama! I need you. I can't do this! I can't do this! I need you! Please come back! Please!"

Someone grabbed me and pulled me away and I went a little crazy I think. I fought and screamed and bit. There was no reason to go back to the body. I knew she was dead but something broke inside me and I just couldn't leave her there, lying in the street.

Someone must have hit me because I don't remember how I went from trying to crawl back to my mother's corpse and being in a cage.

They figured out who we were almost immediately. I think they might have been looking for us. They kept us under lock and key in an apartment in a building I didn't recognize. No one hurt us but few interacted with us in any way.

I did my best to cheer up Amber Dawn, to make her forget but I wasn't good enough. I think I might have felt better if she'd cried or made a fuss but she didn't. She didn't say word, in fact. Amber Dawn remained completely silent no matter what I said or did.

The time dragged on and eventually some of our keepers loosened up and even began speaking to us. I think it was Amber Dawn. She was only ten but already beautiful in an almost otherworldly way. Her skin was pale with a smattering of freckles over her cheeks and nose. Her hair was jet black but her eyes were such a light shade of blue it almost looked as though she'd had them color treated to silver. The tragedy of our mother's death had added a new facet to her though. Her eyes weren't just beautiful, they were incredibly sad in an unsettlingly mature way. She truly looked like a thing out of fairy stories. Delicate and fragile and sad, everyone eventually seemed to feel almost as protective of her as I did.

I wondered how often sisters were born like us. A dark haired, delicate, blue eyed fairy child and her red haired, boyish sister. My freckles weren't an artistic smattering, they were everywhere. My hair didn't fall in straight silky sheets, it was a frizzy, curly mess. I didn't have anything approaching Amber Dawn's thin framed elegant grace. My torso was short and I seemed to have been built for hauling bricks. I think the kind thing they say about my body type is sturdy. I'm not fat, how could I be with the diet Grandfather provided, but I'm not…I don't know…slender. The bones you see on other girls are likely to be their fingers and clavicles. With me you notice my shoulders and chin.

Yes, any sympathy we attracted was definitely generated by Amber Dawn, not me.

Eventually, we learned our fate. Mrs. Bale, the woman they had eventually assigned to keep track of us (though I had been handling things just fine) told us over breakfast. There was going to be a final Hunger Games and all the tributes would be drawn from the Capitol children.

It had been decided that since the Capitol had taken a girl and a boy from every district for 75 years, the Capitol would have to give us a girl and boy for each of those years.

I did the math.

There had been over half a million people living in the Capitol when war broke out. 75,000 of them had been under the age of 18. Bombs, stray bullets, mutations running rampant, buildings collapsing and other misfortunes during the fighting had caused the deaths of almost one third of them. That left roughly 50,000 children from which the tributes would be chosen.

150 tributes out of a pool of 50,000. My odds seemed pretty good. But somehow, looking at Mrs. Bale, at the way she wouldn't look at me I knew. The odds were not going to be in my favor. Someone was going to make sure of it.

I didn't think. I grabbed the old woman's hand.

"Will you take care of her?" I whispered, suddenly shy. It was as if grabbing her hand had taken all my courage and I couldn't spare anything for my breath.

She wouldn't look at me.

"Please. I know they'll make sure I'm chosen. I don't care. I don't mind. But, please. Promise you'll take care of Amber Dawn. I'll be okay if I know she's going to be taken care of."

She looked up and met my eyes and I knew. I didn't want to believe it but I knew.

"They…They've lowered the minimum age…" She began slowly and I didn't wait for her to finish. I acted on instinct.

Grabbing my zombie like sister, I ran for the door. I wasn't thinking about the guards on the other side. I was thinking one thought, "Get Amber Dawn out."

The guards barred our way and I turned back into the apartment, scrambling for something. Mrs. Bale was calling to me and I could hear tears in her voice but I didn't listen. I had to get Amber Dawn out. I had to find a way.

I ran to the windows. They were all sealed.

I started crying as I tried window after window. Running from room to room with my baby sister stumbling numbly behind.

I finally reached the end. The last room. There was nowhere to go.

Mrs. Bale and one of the guards stood in the door and, yes, she was crying but what good were her tears to my sister?

I thrust Amber Dawn behind me, backing into the corner.

"Please." I sobbed. "Please not her. I don't mind. I don't mind if you take me. I don't care. Please. Please, not her."

"Oh, dear girl." Mrs. Bale cried. "I'm so sorry but there's nothing I can do."

I made a decision. I grabbed a dirty plate sitting on a nearby table, broke it and turned the shard in my bleeding hand toward Amber Dawn.

I had seen the terrible ways tributes had died in the arena. I knew that the people in control would take extra pleasure in seeing us suffer and I was determined that at the very least my sister would die as painlessly as possible. It was rash and I would have always regretted it. So, it's just as well that someone clobbered me over the head before I could manage it.

I woke up in a cage and stayed there until the reaping. I learned that there had been preliminary lotteries, which apparently was the practice in larger districts. The final group of 500 was gathered in the arena where they normally had the parade of tributes and the names pulled. The stands were packed with people from the districts who cheered and laughed as name after name was called.

I imagine I looked as dead eyed and zombie like as Amber Dawn when they called her name. The soldiers moved in to escort her off with the other unfortunates and I considered fighting them, though I knew it would be useless. Then it hit me.

"I volunteer!" I screamed into the subdued crowd. Suddenly animated, I jumped and screamed waving my hand. "I volunteer as tribute! I volunteer!"

The new President who was reading the names stopped and looked at me sadly. But I would be heard.

"I volunteer for my sister. I'll take her place." I explained.

The soldiers had arrived but I had pushed Amber Dawn back behind me.

"No, not her. Me. I volunteer."

There was a long pause as even the bloodthirsty crowd stilled and paid close attention to what was happening.

Someone was whispering in the President's ear and she nodded, then turned back to the microphone.

"It is worthy of this girl to volunteer. We applaud her for that. However, this is not the usual reaping and thus the usual circumstances do not apply. In the reapings of the past it was possible for one person to take the place of a selected tribute because only a single boy and girl were chosen. In this final reaping, there are many boys and girls from the same area. Therefore, it is not possible to substitute one for the other."

My stomach sank and if I had been given anything to eat that day I would have been sick. I knew what she was saying.

"We accept your brave offer to volunteer. You may join your sister and the other tributes now."

I had failed again. Amber Dawn was going into the final Hunger Games, and so was I.


End file.
